The Fine Print of Us

Chapter sixteen -Closing a Chapter

Mara pulled the sheets higher, her body still humming from the night before. Damien was already up—of course he was. Shirtless, moving through the bedroom with that calm, composed presence of his as if he hadn’t completely wrecked her the night before. As if he hadn’t turned her into a mess with nothing more than his voice and her own damn toy.

He was buttoning his shirt now. Slow, deliberate. The cuffs rolled up the way he knew she liked. His tie draped carelessly around his neck, waiting to be knotted.

And God help her, she couldn’t stop staring.

How was it that he could shift so easily back into this powerful, untouchable version of himself while she was still curled in bed, flustered and undone?

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, covering her face with one hand.

He glanced at her in the mirror, smirking. “Like what?”

“Like you didn’t just ruin me last night.”

His chuckle was low, indulgent. “You loved every second.”

She peeked out from between her fingers, cheeks burning. “That’s not the point.”

He crossed to the bed and leaned over her, bracing his hand on the mattress. His mouth brushed her ear. “You didn’t complain.”

“I didn’t get the chance to.”

“Next time,” he promised, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I’ll make sure you do.”

Her heart did that thing again—skipped, flipped, panicked.

Damien stood and adjusted his tie like nothing happened, then checked the time.

“I’ve got a meeting, but I’ll be back before dinner.” He looked at her again, slower this time. “We’ll pick up where we left off.”

She gave a nervous laugh, rolling onto her back. “You say that like I’ll still be functional by then.”

His smile turned into something far too smug. “You won’t be.”

When the door closed behind him, Mara stared up at the ceiling, one arm flung across her face, and groaned.

She was so screwed. Emotionally, physically, and maybe just a little bit spiritually.

Because Damien Blackthorn didn’t play games.

He meant it when he said she was his.

And somehow, terrifying as it was… she didn’t want to run from it anymore.

Mara took her time getting ready for the day. Her body was sluggish—and she knew exactly who to blame for that. Damien Blackthorn and his very determined, very creative idea of what a romantic night in looked like.

She needed a break. Not from him, not really. Just… from the s*x. No matter how toe-curlingly good it was, she was convinced her body physically couldn’t take another round without filing for some kind of recovery leave.

She made herself a light breakfast—fruit, granola, herbal tea—and then sank into a long bath. She added her favorite oils and let herself float, trying not to think about how her skin still buzzed from his touch. Afterward, she did a full skincare routine, masking and moisturizing, doing everything she could to feel like herself again.

By the time she wrapped herself in a robe and flopped onto the couch with her iPad, she felt halfway human again.

What she didn’t expect was him.

Her phone buzzed, and when she checked the screen, her breath caught.

Nolan Hale.

She blinked, almost sure she misread the name. But no. It was a message from him, clear as day.

“I meant what I said, Mara. I’d still like to see you. No pressure, just… coffee? Let me know when you’re free.”

She stared at it for a full minute. He wasn’t just following up on the project. This was personal. After seeing her at the charity event—glued to Damien’s side no less—she assumed he’d back off. Most men would’ve. But Nolan wasn’t most men.

A thousand thoughts spun in her head. Why now? Was he testing the waters? Did he think Damien was temporary? Or… did some part of her still leave that door open?

Her stomach knotted.

She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not Damien. But Nolan Hale had always been a magnetic force in his own right. And he was offering her something very different.

Maybe too different.

Mara set the phone down and pulled her knees up to her chest.

She needed air. And a walk. And probably someone to slap some sense into her.

She texted Leah:

"I need coffee. And moral support. You free?"

Within seconds, Leah replied:

"You had me at coffee. Meet you in 20."

Good. Because if she stayed in this penthouse for one more second thinking about two very different men, she was going to combust.

Leah laughed so hard she nearly snorted when Mara complained about how tired she was.

“I can only dream of having a man like Damien keeping me satisfied,” she smirked, swirling her iced latte like it held secrets. “That’s what he’s doing, babe. He’s making sure you have no energy left to think of anyone else. No Andrew, and definitely no Nolan. He’s conditioning you. Your body’s going to associate pleasure exclusively with him—and from the looks of it, he’s succeeding.”

Mara groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “I’ve come to realize it’s easier to admit that Damien Blackthorn always wins.”

Leah grinned, leaning in like this was the juiciest gossip she'd ever heard. “His prize is you, Mara. You should be over the moon about that. I’d accept his proposal right away and let him sweep me off my feet.” She sat back with a dramatic sigh. “It’s not me he wants, though. It’s you. And he’s trying to make damn sure the entire world knows it.”

Mara hesitated, the guilt crawling back in. “What about Nolan?”

Leah didn’t even blink. “It’s easy, actually. Meet him for coffee, thank him for his interest, and tell him you’re serious about Damien. Give the guy the dignity of clarity. Then move on. Preferably back to bed with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous.”

Mara nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

Leah beamed. “I don’t have many talents, but I do speak the language of love. Unfortunately, I haven’t met my Damien Blackthorn yet. Because if I did, I would willingly let him keep me in bed for the rest of my life and wouldn’t be bothered by it either.”

Mara shook her head, laughing quietly into her cappuccino.

She appreciated how Leah always cut through the noise and made things simple. It was comforting. Clarifying.

Her phone buzzed again.

Another message from Nolan.

“No pressure, Mara. I just want to see you again. Let me know when you’re free.”

She stared at it for a second longer this time, then locked her screen.

She’d meet him. But not for herself.

For closure.

Because Damien deserved her whole heart—and if she was ever going to give it to him completely, she needed to make sure there were no lingering questions. No unfinished conversations.

No more what-ifs.

She took a deep breath and sipped the last of her coffee.

Time to finish this chapter of her life, so she could finally start the next one—with Damien.

Mara arrived five minutes early. She always did that when she felt unsure—something about being in control of her surroundings before the other person showed up gave her the illusion of steadiness. Today was no different. She picked a quiet corner table at the café Nolan had chosen, her hands curled around a cup of peppermint tea she barely touched.

It was sunny, but the inside of the café felt colder than she expected.

Or maybe that was just the weight of what she had to do.

Nolan arrived with his usual casual charm. Tousled hair, confident stride, the kind of man who carried stories in his eyes and metaphors in his smile. A part of her heart—a very old, very faded part—still fluttered a little.

Not because she wanted him.

But because once upon a time, she had.

“Mara,” he greeted, sliding into the seat across from her with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks for meeting me.”

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t want to leave things unclear.”

Nolan exhaled like he’d been bracing for that exact sentence.

“So, the infamous Damien Blackthorn is your boyfriend?” he asked, his voice lighter than his eyes.

It wasn’t just curiosity—it was layered. A quiet how did that happen? hidden beneath his casual delivery.

Mara folded her hands around her teacup, steadying herself. “We started off casually... but things moved fast. It’s serious now. Marriage-serious.”

She didn’t need to sugarcoat it. Nolan was sharp. After the charity event, it wasn’t hard to piece things together. The way Damien touched her like she was his whole world. The way she leaned in—not because she had to, but because it felt like the only place she belonged.

Nolan took the news with surprising grace, but there was something wistful in the way his smile tilted.

“So I have no chance at all, huh?”

Mara met his gaze, kind but firm. “I won’t lie and say there wasn’t chemistry between us. But it’s not like what I feel for Damien. Not even close.”

He nodded slowly, then leaned back in his chair with a breathy chuckle. “Well, that’s that. Time for me to stop fooling myself and move on, huh?”

She softened. “I do love our chats, though. You have a brilliant mind. And a kind one too. Think my overprotective, wildly possessive boyfriend would ever accept us being friends?”

Nolan laughed. “I think it’ll take time… and maybe a little effort on my part not to flirt.”

Mara raised her brow with a smile. “That might help.”

He extended a hand across the table. “No more crossed wires, then?”

She shook it gently. “No more.”

They stood together, and for the first time in a while, things felt settled. No lingering tension. Just two people parting on honest terms.

As she stepped out into the city sunlight, Mara felt something in her chest ease. Whatever doubts she’d had lately, they were quieter now.

She pulled out her phone and typed a text without overthinking it:

On my way back. Do you need anything? Also... I miss you.

The elevator ride felt longer than usual, or maybe it was just her nerves.

She wasn’t sure why she felt nervous. She’d told Nolan the truth. Cleaned up the past. But now she had to walk back into the present—into this life with Damien—and own it. No more half-truths or hesitation.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the familiar luxury of the penthouse. Warm lighting. The faint scent of coffee. The low hum of music playing somewhere in the background. It smelled like home now. His space had become theirs.

She stepped inside and toed off her shoes, eyes scanning the living room. It was quiet.

“Damien?” she called softly.

“Office,” came his voice—rich and familiar—from down the hall.

She made her way there, her heart doing that weird fluttery thing it always did around him, no matter how much time had passed.

He sat behind his desk, shirt sleeves rolled up, pen in hand. God, he looked like a man straight out of one of her fantasies. Focused. Commanding. Undeniably his own force of nature.

When he looked up, that sharp, unreadable lawyer expression melted into something only she got to see.

“Mara,” he said, voice warm.

“I’m back,” she murmured.

He stood slowly, stepping around the desk. “How’d it go?”

She slid her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his chest. “I ended things. Gave Nolan clarity. We’re just friends now.”

He didn’t answer right away, but she felt his hand curl protectively around the back of her head.

“Thank you,” he said, low against her hair.

She looked up at him, her voice softer now. “It felt like the right thing to do. I don’t want any more doubts between us.”

His gaze darkened with something tender—and something hungry. “There won’t be. I won’t let there be.”

He kissed her then. Slow, certain. The kind of kiss that anchored her. One hand cupped her jaw, the other resting low on her back.

She looked up, meeting his gaze. “And I think I’m ready to admit that I dare to dream of a future with you. I told Nolan clearly that I think the two of us are serious. Marriage serious.”

His grip around her waist tightened, fingers flexing like he was holding on to something rare. Something he didn’t want to let go.

“So I want you to know,” she continued, voice barely above a whisper, “that there is nothing between us anymore. I dare to love you with everything I have.”

He stilled.

For one long, quiet moment, he didn’t move, didn’t blink—just looked at her as though the world had shifted beneath his feet. He wasn’t expecting it. The words. The truth. But she saw it in his eyes—the way her confession undid him in a way nothing else ever had.

Then he moved.

His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Say it again.”

Her heart flipped. “I love you.”

A breath escaped him. Sharp. Disbelieving. Reverent.

He didn’t smile—not at first. His jaw clenched like he was trying to hold back the emotion flooding him. Then his forehead rested against hers, and he breathed her in like she was oxygen.

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that since the night I met you,” he whispered. “And I promise, Mara... I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you were right to trust me.”

She closed her eyes, letting herself fall.

There was no fear this time. No resistance.

Just her heart, wide open and unguarded, beating against his.

He kissed her—soft and slow. A kiss that wasn’t about seduction, or hunger, or victory.

It was a promise.

And when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bed, she knew without a doubt:

She wasn’t falling anymore.

She had already landed—right where she was meant to be.